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—
i realize the time changes are kinda confusing, so i'll write the date every time it's a different day :)
also regarding that last chapter where people were commenting "it's okay, you can say red," she knows that! i promise, celeste is a bad bitty that knows exactly what she wants (though she doesn't know that she wants draco like that just yet but it's okay) so if she was feeling red, she would say red.
also part of the purpose of a safe word is so that there is no confusion on whether the other person wants to keep going.
—
MAY 5th, 1996
"You're a piece of shit," I snort as we walk away from those Ravenclaw second years, one of them sniffling slightly.
"What?" Draco scoffs in mock offense, glancing down at me from my side with a stupid grin. "I was just fulfilling my Prefectoral and Inquisitorial duties, Celeste."
"They were going to the bathroom!" I laugh softly, stumbling when he gently shoves my shoulder. I wince as I regain my footing, throbbing pain shooting up all over my...well, all over my body. My hips and thighs are beyond sore, little bruises in the shapes of his fingers all over them, not to mention the absolute pounding he gave me, and I swear my pussy is never gonna be the same. Even my face is still a little sore, and I have bruises on my neck. They're light, though, so I had no problem covering them up with makeup.
Draco glances down at me, his lips parting slightly as he licks them and his eyes growing heavy. "Why are you walking like that?" he teases in a low voice, a small smirk flirting at his lips.
I scowl at him, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. I am, admittedly, walking rather odd. Someone who wouldn't know to look for it probably wouldn't notice, but of course Draco would. I'm kind of waddling—it's the only way to minimize the pain.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I grumble softly.
"Are there bruises?" he asks, reaching over to brush some hair off my shoulder.
"'Are there bruises?'" I scoff incredulously, glaring up at him with all the intensity I can muster while he stifles a laugh. "Please. I look like I've been beat up. Were you trying to kill me, Malfoy? I swear, you were trying to kill me."
"Can you blame me?" he quirks a brow, jaw clenching. "Who wouldn't want to kill an insufferable little—?"
"Hey," I interrupt sternly, scowling up at his face, "we're friends now, remember?"
"Right, only joking," he waves me off, and then mutters so loudly under his breath, "partially."
